Holy Judgement
by Livin In Sin
Summary: A young God is sent to Eden to rescue his people and restore faith in the old ways. But he finds more than he bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first Black & White fic, The creature concept will be introduced later in the story. But for now enjoy this tale as it unravels. I may or may not begin a sequel when this concludes depending on review response.

Disclaimer

I don't own Black & White, any related creatures, miracles and any other content, the plot is based loosely on that of B&W 2 however any original elements, names, people or any content not in the games is mine, I will tolerate the reproduction of any of my original ideas so long as the author in question asks me first.

So without further guilding the lilly and with no more ado, I am proud to present...

Black & White

Holy Judgement

Descent

Arik awoke, a meadow, a soft breeze blowing through the tall grass the scent of it wafting in to his nostrils. He had nostrils? It was certain, he had a body.

"This isn't what you promised Tiberius!" He yelled skyward, his voice was not deep, it seemed he had been given a body which was proportionate to his age as a God. Rather than count their age in years Gods tended to count the time from their awakening in millennia, which in this form made him roughly twenty.

He was in full armour, the classic greek circular shield on one arm and a sword at his belt, he wore no helmet and conjuring a pool of water he beheld a clean shaven, handsome, chiselled face, one that seemed it had been cut from the palest marble. The brown of his chin length hair was rivalled in beauty and magnificence only by the emerald green of his eyes.

"There is no use in yelling to Tiberius, friend." Th voice was that of an elderly man, wearing a blue cloak and hood over a darker tunic. Like all his people he wore sandals for comfort. He was a little shorter than Arik, or it could be how he leaned on his gnarled old staff, surely almost as old as he. His face seemed like a dried out old prune, shrunken and contorted, framed by his long, snowy white hair. "The old Gods have abandoned Eden."

Arik had yet to overcome his disgust toward being confined in this manner but he thought it best to start his task as soon as possible. "Surely that is not so." He began, "Why, his temple still stands at the edge of the town there, would such a structure stand if it were not the will of heaven?"

"A reminder of a crumbling empire, stranger, Tiberius has not spoken to us for nearly five decades now. Our borders are undefended, our farm lands are nothing but scorched earth and we pay tribute to the other tribes. Heaven's will has overlooked us I fear."

"Perhaps Tiberius does not speak because you are idle and do not defend your borders." Arik peered toward the temple, squinting against the rising sun, "The sun rises, why are the people not going for the morning's prayers?"

"No one pays homage to Tiberius any longer, he does not speak, so most people have stopped asking for his voice."

"Take me within the temple." Arik commanded, "I will make him speak."

The temple though old and vine ridden, was not without its own elegance. Its tall pillars stood out from the non-descript landscape it was situated on and the old fountains around it, though similarly vine covered, gave the crumbling building a real feeling of importance.

"What is your name old man?" Arik asked as they proceeded up the steps.

"Augusto." The old man answered, "I was once a priest here, before these dark times, at first the Norse would not let us practice our faith, they guarded the temple day and night, but when Tiberius left it wasn't necessary any longer. The people are content to cringe, lest they be sent to the prison, or even worse the torture pits."

"Excellent." Arik exclaimed, "We'll go there next."

"But the pits and prisons are guarded my young friend, Norse warriors do not tolerate any Greek wearing armour or bearing weapons, unless it be Norse iron and it is borne for a Norse cause."

"Well the Norse are going to be very upset, because there is no way they are getting their hands on my armour, nor my shield and they certainly don't want to end up on the wrong end of my sword." The two cleared the last few steps and forced open the huge stone doors as they entered the temple.

Inside lay a few rotting wooden benches and a marble alter below a hole in the centre of the domed ceiling. "A shame it is that the Norse took all the relics from this place, our prayers might have been answered if only we had possessed a strong enough talisman."

"Fear not old priest, I think your prayers wont go unanswered any longer."

"You are a strange young fellow... what did you say your name was?"

"My name is Arik Avan."

The priest stopped and mumbled under his breath, "Tiberius, Animus..." He paused a few moments, no doubt reciting the other countless gods names in his head, "Ah yes! Arik Avan! Second of The Trinity, The Balance. Your father named you well, you were the middle child my boy?"

Augusto obviously didn't believe he was **the **Arik Avan, so the deity decided to play along, "I suppose you could say that." He came to the altar and laid his hands upon it, "Hm, still warm."

"Ha, this marble has been cold for most of my life m'boy. No warmth in these old stones."

"You're wrong," Arik gasped, he felt energy rushing in to his body from the altar, energy dormant for decades, "I can feel it."

The clouds split wide and a great shaft of light cam down, passing the the dome and shining down on the altar, illuminating both Arik and the cold stones, vines and moss were swept away and the temple began to restore itself. Chips of stone, shards of glass all began to return to their rightful place.

Arik turned away to watch the restoration of the rest of the temple, at once the priest fell on his knees, "My Lord Arik!" He cried, "I had no idea! My mortal eyes could not perceive who you were, please forgive a thoughtless old man!"

Arik stood over the aged man and smiled, "Rise, I need a High Priest to run this temple, gather what followers the old Gods have left and bring them here."

The aged Priest stopped shouting and rose, leaning heavy on his staff. Arik looked at it, proof of how fragile mortals were. "Carry out this task." He said, "And you shall be rewarded."

He looked once again down at his armour, "Give me your cloak."


	2. Chapter 2

All disclaimer information is given in the first Chapter. This chapter is shoter than the first but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did thinking it up.

And so begins the second Chapter in Arik's adventure in Eden...

Black & White

Holy Judgement

The Cruelty of Man

Arik, wrapped in the old preacher's cloak, walked through the crowded streets of the small town, the buildings were mostly derelict and hardly fit to sustain life, what little water there was, was usually held by the Norse guards.

This was no way for men to live.

He approached the prison and was at once confronted by two Norse soldiers. "No Greeks beyond this point." One said.

"Trespassers will receive thirty lashes." The other added.

Arik frowned, his divine aura and obvious anger was enough to make the Norse men quake even though they knew not who he was. He stepped forward but the first pushed him back. Arik raised his hand, grabbed the soldier by the throat and lifted him off the ground,casting off the cloak as he did so. He flung him toward the prison, slamming his body into the stone and killing him instantly.

His other hand clamped around the second guards neck before he could move. "You'd threaten me?"

"No! No my lord! I'm sorry! They are the Prefect's laws not mine!"

"Good." He dropped the now shaking Norse man, "Come with me."

The deity walked up the steps of the prison and stuck the doors with such force that they fell off their hinges, crushing an unfortunate Norse guard. Arik walked to the first cell and looked in. Inside there was a scrawny man in mere rags cowering in a corner.

"Why is this man in prison?" Arik asked the Norse man. "Answer!"

"He-- He stole from the storehouse, he's to be executed."

Arik looked toward the man in the cell, "Why?" He asked.

The man stood up and walked toward the bars, "To feed my family sir, it ain't right that a a man with six children get the same ration as one with two."

"It is right by us, the hardship will make your little Greek whelps in to strong Norse slaves." The Norse man yelled.

Arik whirled around, drawing his sword and bringing it down to split the man's skull, "That's what I think of you Norse." He spat.

"Marvellous!" yelled the man in the cell, "You're the first to kill a Norse in this town for over thirty years. What's your name?"

"Arik Avan." With that he reached out and grasped the bars, ripping them away in the blink of an eye. "Come. We have work to do."

The prisoners were soon all freed, most had been imprisoned without charge and those who hadn't had not been given a fair trial as any Norse citizen would. They came to the temple where more villagers had gathered.

Arik sat upon the altar while Augusto spoke, "This." He began, gesturing toward Arik with his staff, "Is Arik Avan, the Arik Avan, the Lord of Balance, second among the Trinity."

Shouts protest and gasps of surprise echoed throughout the temple and some toward the back got up to leave. Arik quickly stood up atop the altar. "Wait!" He cried, "Regardless of whether or not you believe who I am, you must admit that your people cannot live this way. Whether you believe in Arik Avan or Tiberius or any of us any more, I guess that all of you, every single one of you, believes in Greece."

People throughout the temple rose to their feet and began a steady chant of "Greece, Greece, Greece!" The light streaming down on the altar seemed magnified by the chants. The Temple interior glowed with a warm reassuring light.

The doors burst wide and heavily armed Norse men streamed inside by the dozen, they began to round up the men and women and dragged the few screaming children away. Arik had seen all he could stand of this war like culture. He leaped from the altar, his range enhanced by his godly powers, brought his blade down on a soldiers neck and grasped the head with his shield arm.

He held it high so the other soldiers could see. This seemed not enough, "He's only one man!" They shouted, "He'll not leave alive!"

Arik dropped the head, ducked a sword stroke, took another on his shield and stabbed his aggressor leaving him to bleed, like a pig. By this time the Greek men had mustered the courage to fight back, grabbing torches from the walls, or picking up the dead soldier's weapons.

Within a few minutes the temple was all but clear of Norse soldiers, some had surrendered and others were simply paralysed with fear, they were obviously not used to having anyone fight back. Arik grabbed one by the throat, lifting him clear off the floor and slamming him down on to the altar. "Who sent you here?" He asked.

"The... the prefect, he sent us to quell the uprising." The Norse man answered, Arik could smell the fear coming off him.

"There was no uprising before you came here. These people answered my call, they were leaving, not rebelling."

"It's the same thing here, no Greek may leave these walls without permission, you are born here and you die here, that is the way of things. You're all scheduled for execution."

"It's not my way, it's yours. Where is the Prefect?" Arik took a dagger off his belt and pressed it to the Norse man's throat before he repeated, "Where?"

"He... he lives in the mansion... up on the cliff which overlooks the town. But the road is guarded, you'll never get in."

Arik raised the dagger and brought it down on the man's chest, cutting through the flesh and breaking a rib before puncturing his heart. He then left the soldier there to reflect on how he'd spent his life, whether he would repent or not was up to him.


End file.
